


Nothing Better

by achillese



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Books, Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillese/pseuds/achillese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Adam have a little game they play involving books and fun hiding spots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Better

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt word was "analecta."

This time, it was Stephen King.

This packet wasn’t as thick as the others before it, spanning probably a total of fourteen pages, lines spaced at one-point-five (because single was too cramped and double felt like cheating somehow) and all in Comic Sans font because for some stupid reason, it appealed to out-of-touch angels the same way it appealed to high school teachers trying to be cool. Meaning: shamelessly unattractive but in an endearing way.

The title across the top reported that this one was called “Sometimes They Come Back.”

Packet in one hand and piece of buttered toast in the other, Adam sat down at the kitchen table reading over the short story that became more and more disturbing the further into it he got.

He’d just passed the part where the second greaser appears in Jim’s class when the air behind him shifted, caressing him gently across the shoulders so his tensed muscles relaxed.

“Hey Mike,” Adam said through the toast in his mouth, barely glancing up from the packet in front of him. It was a good thing, then, that Michael didn’t see the lack of physical greeting as rude; he knew how absorbed Adam could get with reading. That was why he did this in the first place. It amused him as much as it did Adam.

“Hello.” Michael stood behind him and gripped Adam by the shoulders with both hands before leaning down to kiss the top of his straw-colored head. “You’ve found another one, I see?”

Adam nodded, leaning back a little into Michael’s touch. “The one in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Ah. One of my favorites.”

“Really? It’s so...messed up.”

Michael chuckled and squeezed Adam’s shoulders. “It’s Stephen King. If it were anything but, I’d be concerned.”

Adam finished off his toast and set the packet down on the table, tilting his head back to look up at Michael. “How many more does that leave me?”

“Well...” Michael trailed off, dragging on the ‘L’ sound. “So far you’ve found King, Marquez, Green, Borges, Wilde, and Lewis. That’s six. You have another six to go.”

Adam pretended to groan in annoyance. “Six?”

“And then I’ll start leaving more behind once you’ve found the remaining six.”

“I’ll be reading forever.”

Michael grinned and kissed his forehead. “Not forever.”

They’d started this tradition about a month ago. It was all Michael’s idea, really, once he found out that Adam was a bookworm at heart, and Adam had to figure out the rules for himself. Once he’d found the second story, the one by Jorge Luis Borges, folded carefully between the folds of Adam’s scrubs, he learned how to play. The self-made instruction manual went as follows: 1) find the short story, 2) read it, and 3) repeat ad infinitum. It was always a nice surprise to find words and characters built from letters in the most unexpected of places (the Oscar Wilde play in the oven was funny to stumble across) and though Adam pretended to complain about all the reading he’d been doing lately, truth be told he wished Michael would never run out of short stories to give him, or hiding places.

Adam tilted his head a little further back so he could kiss Michael fully, lingering there for a moment before he pulled away and said, “Just one suggestion though.”

“Yes?” One dark eyebrow quirked up.

“Enough with the Comic Sans. There’s a reason it’s not a default font.”

Michael chuckled and wrapped his arms around Adam’s chest, leaning in to kiss him upside-down again. “I’m still learning,” he admitted.

“And I’m still reading,” Adam replied, the grin seemingly etched onto his face.

“Yes, you are. Finish up and I’ll bring you to school. You have that field trip today, don’t you?” Michael asked as he made his way over to the freezer to pop a Lean Pocket into the microwave. Normally he’d just zap it cooked but Adam was a stickler for doing things the human way in his apartment. The rule of thumb was: ‘angel everywhere else, human in here.’

Adam nodded absentmindedly as he picked up the Stephen King story again, eyes straining to read the abused font. “Yeah, the open heart surgery. Can’t wait.”

“I’ll bet.” Michael popped open the microwave and took one look inside before shutting the door and staring at it. “Hrmm.”

Adam turned in his seat to face the angel, blue eyes sparkling. “What is it?”

Michael pursed his lips. “I forgot I hid a Nabokov story in there.”


End file.
